|
||
Dear Gallus, I haven't written to you in ages, but I have been thinking of you a lot lately. This is dangerous, I know, but I can't seem to help it. Fossy thinks it's normal and tells me that she sometimes does the same thing- as in not thinks of you, but rather ends up thinking about/dreaming about the anti-christ as someone who fucked with her head- whenever her brain is trying to process stuff. I am house hunting and car hunting and stressed as hell. I am over my job and the cliquey BS that belongs back in highschool, not a workplace. And I miss kissing. Both in general and with you. I miss that I could just go apeshit on your body with complete trust that I could put the brakes on whenever I wanted, no questions, no recriminations. I miss getting turned on. I have just had this run of 'smeh' and miss the 'HOLYFUCKGODDAMNFUCKME' of real passion. But I need the trust and nobody can seem to be bothered trying to earn it, which fucking sucks. I wish I could have you here right now, just to make out for 3 hrs like we used to. And then have another run at the whole sex thing....although ironically while you were the only person for a long long time who I could even contemplate that with, you hurt me so badly, now I don't think I could even go through with it, I would be much too anxious and stressed. Which pretty much leaves me nowhere. As usual. Sigh. -Me |
||
|